


Jacket

by amine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America's Jacket, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:53:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8724103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amine/pseuds/amine
Summary: "Ah, it smells like him, he thought, but although he'd been expecting it to smell of hamburgers and grease, England instead found himself thinking of warm summer days, crisp mountain air, seemingly endless fields of grain and ocean breezes all at once."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because who doesn't love England wearing America's jacket?

It was just sitting there draped over the back of what had been America's chair during the meeting—that damned jacket of his.

England shook his head and clicked his tongue as he pulled the jacket off the chair and brushed it off. For something America seemed to treasure so much, he really did a terrible job of taking care of it. If England hadn't noticed it, someone else might have simply thrown it out.

Holding it up at arm's length, England had to shake his head again. America was really unnecessarily big—no longer the sweet little boy he'd once been. England snorted to himself as he thought of how he might drown in it if he wore the jacket.

He lowered it and looked around, but everyone had left a long time ago. He was the only one remaining.

England swallowed, then he slipped one arm into the jacket's sleeve, then the other. He straightened the jacket and smirked—it really was huge. As he pulled the collar closer around him, he breathed in deep, though he quickly dismissed the action as unintentional.

Ah, it smells like him, he thought, but although he'd been expecting it to smell of hamburgers and grease, England instead found himself thinking of warm summer days, crisp mountain air, seemingly endless fields of grain and ocean breezes all at once. The scent of the jacket was both comforting and exhilarating.

Despite himself, England found his cheeks beginning to warm as he pulled the jacket closer around himself. He was beginning to abandon any pretense that his actions were unintentional and that he simply wanted to wear the jacket and have something of America's around him. He couldn't have America's arms around him, after all. He could, however, imagine that America had placed the jacket around him with some foolish excuse about trying to be a gentleman because it was cold out and he didn't want England to freeze while England grumbled and protested. Only in his dreams, he thought with a wry smile.

As he began to bury his face into the jacket, content to comfort himself with the smell and feel of it, the sound of a door opening made England snap upright, and he felt his stomach drop somewhere near the floor when America stepped through the door.

Rather than grin like a predator that had spotted its prey or immediately tease him for what he was doing, America's eyes widened and his face turned a bright shade of red. He moved his mouth wordlessly for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“Oh, good. You, uh...found my jacket.” America's voice sounded a little strained and he cleared his throat again.

England nodded without a word and quickly removed the jacket, holding it for America to take and averting his burning face. With any luck the floor would open and swallow him up. But it didn't, and America took the jacket from him, though England didn't bother to look at him face to face.

“So...I'll see you later...or something,” America said, voice still strained, and England waited until well after the sound of America leaving the room had faded to follow after.

* * *

America mentally kicked himself as he sprinted back to the meeting room. His jacket was important to him. He couldn't just leave it behind for it to be thrown out. With any luck the janitor hadn't been through yet.

He threw open the door and immediately froze. Standing behind what had been his chair was England. England wearing his jacket—pulling it around himself and burying his face in it with a look that America couldn't quite describe on his face.

It was only for a moment, then England snapped upright and stared at him in shock. America felt his face heat up, but although he opened his mouth to speak, words failed him and he moved his mouth wordlessly for a moment. He cleared his throat. 

"Oh, good. You, uh...found my jacket." His voice sounded strained—too strained. He cleared his throat again.

England nodded but didn't say anything, immediately removing the jacket to hold out for America to take. England looked away from him, and America wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

Relieved. Of course he was relieved.

“So...I'll see you later...or something,” America said, his voice still strained.

England continued to look away, and America stumbled back. He managed to get through the door without any further incident, but the moment he shut the door behind him he broke into a run.

His cheeks wouldn't stop burning.


End file.
